on board
endeavoured to hoist the mainsail of the Smeaton, with the view of
working her up to the buoy from which she had parted; but it blew so
hard, that by the time she was got round to make a tack towards the
rock, she had drifted at least three miles to leeward.

The circumstance of the _Smeaton_ and her boat having drifted was
observed first by Mr. Stevenson, who prudently refrained from drawing
attention to the fact, and walked slowly to the farther point of the
rock to watch her. He was quickly followed by the landing-master, who
touched him on the shoulder, and in perfect silence, but with a look
of intense anxiety, pointed to the vessel.

"I see it, Wilson. God help us if she fails to make the rock within a
very short time," said Mr. Stevenson.

"She will _never_ reach us in time," said Wilson, in a tone that
convinced his companion he entertained no hope.

"Perhaps she may," he said hurriedly; "she is a good sailer."

"Good sailing," replied the other, "cannot avail against wind and
tide together. No human power can bring that vessel to our aid until
long after the tide has covered the Bell Rock."

Both remained silent for some time, watching with intense anxiety the
ineffectual efforts of the little vessel to beat up to windward.

In a few minutes the engineer turned to his companion and said, "They
cannot save us, Wilson. The two boats that are left--can they hold us
all?"

The landing-master shook his head. "The two boats," said he, "will be
completely filled by their own crews. For ordinary rough weather they
would be quite full enough. In a sea like that," he said, pointing to
the angry waves that were being gradually lashed into foam by the
increasing wind, "they will be overloaded."

"Come, I don't know that, Wilson; we may devise something," said Mr.
Stevenson, with a forced air of confidence, as he moved slowly
towards the place where the men were still working, busy as bees and
all unconscious of the perilous circumstances in which they were
placed.

As the engineer pondered the prospect of deliverance, his thoughts
led him rather to despair than to hope. There were thirty-two persons
in all upon the rock that day, with only two boats, which, even in
good weather, could not unitedly accommodate more than twenty-four
sitters. But to row to the floating light with so much wind and in so
heavy a sea, a complement of eight men for each boat was as much as
could with propriety be attempted,